Rapprochement
by Alsaurus Rex
Summary: Castiel is living on the road with Sam and Dean, spending his nights in a sleeping bag on the floor between their beds.


I wrote this just before 8x08 came out, and I wanted to post it before it became even less canon-compliant. I might write more of it someday, I'm not sure.

* * *

Ever since Castiel had returned from Purgatory, and he and Dean had had their "heart-to-heart" (as Sam had called it), things had seemed almost normal between them. But of course they couldn't be. Nothing would ever be the same.

While Castiel did indeed feel a physical reaction to the conversation in his own vessel's heart, if the thudding rush of blood in his ears had been anything to go by, he still couldn't see how that justified the name "heart-to-heart". What is the purpose of sharing "hearts", if not to somehow alleviate the burden?

In Purgatory, Castiel's grace had ached with the choices he had made; he'd ached with the knowledge that he'd never see Dean again, that he didn't deserve Dean's forgiveness even when it was being freely offered... But, inexplicably, fate worked in Castiel's selfish favor once again. Dean had searched for him relentlessly in Purgatory. He'd seemed quite visibly positively affected by his escape, albeit confused. He didn't even blame Castiel for staying behind- the man had believed it to be his own fault!

Why then, did Castiel still feel so heavy inside?

(The idea of "emotional baggage" now made sense to him. Did every human walk the Earth with a lifetime's worth of feelings, stacked up on top of the other? How did people like Dean and Sam even wake up in the morning? With no guiding force or external compass, either- just trusting their own judgement, knowing that every choice they make could be the worst regret of their lives...)

Well. Castiel's heart was still burdened, that's for sure. He could see with his own eyes Dean's acceptance of him back into his life, and yet... Something was still incomplete. Castiel's best hypothesis so far was that human hearts must be greedy.

Even so, life was mostly pleasant on the road with the Winchesters. They seemed to forgive him and trust him once more. Not that they'd had much chance to test him in battle- they had been laying somewhat low recently. They traveled, they monitored for intelligence of Crowley's whereabouts, they bought pie for Dean. They "hung out" at libraries, in diners, and in the hotel room.

Sometimes Castiel would leave to find obscure spell ingredients or research materials overseas, but he never stayed away for very long. He'd even acquired a sleeping bag for nights whe he had no errands to run and the boys were asleep. Castiel himself didn't need to sleep, but he enjoyed resting curled up inside his floor nest. He enjoyed pretending to be a caterpillar in a cocoon, listening to the boys breathe, waiting for morning when he would crawl out and metamorphose, _somehow, maybe this time..._

"Come on, Cas. Quit hovering and sit down already," Dean said gruffly from his position against the head of the motel bed. He sat upright with his legs stretched out and his hands behind his head, relaxed and maybe a little happy.

Sam had just left with the Impala to see the woman he had met while Dean and Castiel were in Purgatory. Castiel sensed Dean's displeasure but knew that it couldn't be catastrophic if he allowed Sam to take the Impala.

Indeed, if anything, his mood seemed improved after Sam had closed the hotel room door behind him. Castiel had watched as Dean grabbed the cooler of beer, used the remote to turn on the television, and made himself comfortable on his bed.

And now he wanted Castiel to sit down. A clear command.

Enter free will: where should he sit? In one of the chairs, on the other side of the room? On Sam's bed? Should he simply move one of the chairs closer, perhaps? And there was also-

"Cas, we are watching this movie and drinking this beer or so help me-"

"Yes, of course," Castiel said quickly. Choosing by default the option he had just been considering, he hastily sat down next to Dean on the bed. "There."

"Getting comfortable?" Dean asked, throwing him a sideways look that Castiel couldn't even hope to interpret. He couldn't be sure, but Dean did not seem annoyed by a breach in personal space. They probably just weren't sitting close enough. It was a large bed.

"Very, thank you."

Castiel had never understood the human need for personal space, although he'd always imagined it to be territorial, somehow.

But now, suddenly, the space between his vessel and Dean's body seemed to be charged with some unspoken plea. He seemed capable of physically reacting to Dean without even touching him. Maybe humans were less like territorial animals and more like magnets- incapable of close proximity without the inevitable push or pull.

Was this tension Castiel was feeling a push or a pull? If Castiel could feel it, did that mean that Dean necessarily felt it as well?

Dean turned then to look at him full-on. Castiel tried not to look as anxious as he felt.

"Is this about that sleeping bag? We can get you your own room, you know. You're not our dog..."

Castiel blinked. Dogs don't use sleeping bags. Was it unusual for humans to sleep on the ground? That's the purpose of a sleeping bag, as far as he knew, and humans created them. Perhaps they're for outdoor use only.

"I like my sleeping bag, Dean," Castiel started slowly, trying to figure out how to explain. "And I don't want a room. I don't really sleep, I just stay here..." he trailed off.

_And watch your chest rise and fall in the dim light?_ That one, he knew by now, would qualify as "over-sharing".

There was a pause that was certainly long enough to be awkward.

"Okay, freak. Fine by me," Dean mercifully interjected. He gave Castiel a little half smirk and handed him a bottle of beer from the cooler. "You're welcome to rest your angel batteries on the floor whenever. Except right now- because we're going to watch Back to the Future, and _you_ are going to pay close attention, got it?"

"Absolutely," Castiel nodded fervently. He felt a little exhilarated, like he'd just fought off a horde of demons. And yet still apprehensive, as if he could feel more lurking in the shadows.

* * *

"Is that a nest?" Dean asked out of the blue one evening.

They were all winding down for the night. Sam was in the shower, Dean was double checking the demon-proofing, and Castiel had already shucked his overcoat and crawled into his sleeping bag between the boys' beds. He didn't have any grooming rituals to fulfil and Dean slept better when he verified their security himself, so Castiel was often the first to "go to bed".

Castiel immediately sat up at the question, not quite believing his ears.

"Excuse me?" he asked. Castiel on occasion thought of the sleeping bag as his nest, but he'd never said as much. Could his behavior with it somehow be inhuman enough for Dean to notice?

"I asked if that's your nest or something. You just seem to... I dunno. Do you guys have nests up there?" Dean wasn't looking at Castiel, instead lifting Sam's mattress to make sure the hex bag was still secure.

"I am an angel, Dean. Not a bird," Castiel answered, amused. Then he paused, unsure of how far to continue as Dean finally climbed into bed. "I have never before required any sort of 'sleeping arrangement'. Maybe it seems strange, but I enjoy the novelty of it. And it's comfortable."

Dean finally met his eyes as he settled onto his side facing Castiel near the edge of the bed. He drew the covers up to his chin and just watched Castiel for a long moment.

"If you like comfort, you should try your very own bed sometime," Dean murmured eventually. He kept eye contact, but his face remained neutral.

Oh, honestly. The extra room again. Castiel thought they'd already had this conversation.

"I will not say this again, Dean: I am _not _interested in spending entire nights needlessly separated from you," Castiel ground out before he could control himself.

Dean gasped a little in surprise- though it was no more than a slightly stronger intake of breath. He kept his gaze steady, and Castiel prayed that he was having similar success keeping his own calm. He felt like his heart was about to break out of his ribs and fly away.

He shifted a little more into his grace to try to dull his human sensations. Immediately he felt calmer, more sure of his devotion to Dean. He couldn't completely suppress the human anxiety, but as an angel it seemed unimportant compared to his mission. His grace gave him clarity that human emotion made difficult. Perhaps his communications with Dean on a human level were sometimes awkward, but that didn't change anything about Castiel's worship on an angelic level. Dean wouldn't judge him. He knew that Castiel wasn't human, after all.

Now calmed, Castiel stared back at Dean, willing to let him respond.

The tension broke when they both heard the shower being turned off and the motel room was filled with true silence.

Dean broke away first. He punched at his pillow to fluff it and turned to lay on his back.

"You mean separated from me and Sam, right?" he offered easily.

Castiel couldn't help but smile slightly. He had absolutely no idea what was going on here, socially, personally, between him and Dean. Something was shifting in their relationship, and it felt natural and good, but he had no experience to compare it to. He had never been any good at interacting with humans, for all his years of study. It had been the ultimate irony that he of all angels should rebel for a human charge. And yet now he lived and traveled with Dean, who was apparently perfectly willing to overlook his ineptitude.

Castiel couldn't be sure what was going on, but it definitely pleased him.

"Of course," Castiel said. He lowered himself back down into his sleeping bag, mimicking Dean's position, gaze on the ceiling. "Good night, Dean."


End file.
